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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27727378">lakeside.</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/stiliskni/pseuds/stiliskni'>stiliskni</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, First Time, Mostly Pwp, lots of fluff too</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 17:40:12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,185</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27727378</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/stiliskni/pseuds/stiliskni</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>'It was a strange creature - This new and foreign need for someone else. Not just someone else. That implied that anyone would do. The need for her, specifically. It was burning, all-consuming, inescapable.'</p><p>first-time fic from zevran's pov</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Female Amell/Zevran Arainai, Zevran Arainai/Female Warden</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>32</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>lakeside.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>anyone still here? covid lockdown had me diving head-first back into my dragon age obsession. i uploaded this fic to my tumblr blog in 2015 but whilst i'm in the middle of writing a huge new fic, take this slightly revised old one!! enjoy friends</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Moments to himself were scarce. Between all the fighting, do-gooding, and general trudging through muddy fields, there was little more to do at camp than collapse into a haphazardly assembled tent and pray that it held up during the night. Their schedule of constant walking and fighting suited him just fine; leaving himself with a moment alone in his headspace was a dangerous hole that he had no pressing need to fall down. </p><p>But moments alone meant moments away from the constant banter from Alistair, the nagging from Wynne, the tuneful singing from Leliana, the ruthless snark from Morrigan - He could go on. </p><p>He <em>could </em>go on, but he would much rather seek out his favourite Warden.</p><p>Although, he thought, considering himself objectively for a brief second, was he not following her around like some kind of lost mabari pup? The others in their little motley crew had already noticed their blossoming relationship. Truly, he’d had enough disapproving looks from Alistair to last him a lifetime. Not that there was anything to glare about. With all his talk and claims of being a charming seductor, they had scarcely done more than hold hands. </p><p>He had no qualms with the pace of their relationship. In fact, it made the entire matter a great deal simpler if he could convince himself that their love affair was entirely fictional - Constructed by the mind of a desperately lonely man, clinging to the skirts of a too-kind woman. It would be better for them both if he were to brush aside whatever little dalliance they had together. Another heartbreak would leave him shattered into too many pieces to ever reassemble. Even the most foolish of characters could see where this adventure was heading. He’d even said to her himself:<em> ‘Did you not read the stories as a child?’ He asked her, his lips quirking into a rueful smile, ‘the hero always dies.’  </em></p><p>Steeling himself with the courage he had long convinced himself he lacked, he followed after her to the small lake a stone’s throw away from camp. </p><p>Zevran found her amidst gentle, golden light that was not too dissimilar to her healing magic. Small orbs floated lazily around her form, painting her like a picture of those angelic figures he could faintly remember from the Antivan Chantries he would sneak into as a child: gold and glittering. She didn’t notice his approach (a compliment to his light feet or an insult to her awareness, he wasn’t sure) which left him to appreciate the pile of curls atop of her head, the expanse of her freckled skin, the tantalizing dip of her back before it disappeared below the water’s surface. </p><p>“Afraid of the dark, dear?” He broke the silence with a smile as she sank down into the water with a yell. </p><p>She turned to see just who had stalked after her, sending one of her orbs to reveal their face (as though his accent alone wasn’t enough.) The orb moved in a way that almost seemed sentient, like a little fly or gnat, and he batted it away when it zipped too close to his face. “Not exactly,” said Poppy, still electing to remain with only her neck and head above water, “I’m much more afraid of Dark<em>spawn </em>sneaking up on me.” </p><p>“I thought Grey Wardens could sense them from miles away.” He deadpanned, but couldn’t seem to keep the mirth from his tone. </p><p>“And imagine how much scarier it is if you can’t see them coming!” It was difficult to remember the reason he’d sought her out when she was smiling at him like that - All round, rosy cheeks and sparkling eyes. </p><p>Then he felt it, heavy in his gut. This girl; this wonderful, intelligent, shining light of a woman, would not survive a war without losing herself in the process. Be it that her heart stopped in a physical or metaphorical sense, one way or another, she would be lost to a world of blackness. He had seen it before, he would see it again and, Maker forgive him, he simply did not have the heart to see it happen to her. Not that he considered himself a pessimist by any means, but he had recently turned into a cautious man. A selfish man too, perhaps, considering what he’d gone there to do.</p><p>His expression must have dropped into something more sombre, as she tentatively asked, “Is everything alright, Zev?”</p><p>For once he made no attempts at levity. Instead, he turned his back to the lake to spare her modesty. “Could you, ah, get dressed? I wish to talk.” </p><p>He then found himself sitting by the water with her, dripping wet, donning only an oversized shirt in her haste. Were the season not so seasonably warm, he would have worried about her catching cold. They sat in tentative silence for a moment as he elected to watch how the light from her magic shimmered on the water’s surface instead of turning his head to face her. She soon prompted him to speak, asking “what’s wrong?” </p><p>A longer moment of silence followed. </p><p>She hesitated briefly before putting her hand over his where it rested by his side. “You know that I’ll be here to listen, no matter what it is .” Those words seemed to shake what little composure he possessed. He dropped his head, as though suddenly the weight of thoughts in his mind were too much, before peering over at where she sat. There she knelt; his Warden, his Poppy, so unshakingly earnest in everything she did. He didn’t doubt for a moment that there was anything he couldn’t tell her. If he were to bare the darkest corners of his being to her, she would not shy away from it. </p><p>“You don’t have to push yourself to talk if you don’t want to-” She lifted her hand from his, retreating slightly in the silence that met her gentle reassurances. Her breath caught in her throat as he snatched at her hand, closing it in his grip before she could pull it away any further. It was a strange creature - This new and foreign <em> need </em> for someone else. Not just someone else. That implied that anyone would do. The need for <em> her, </em>specifically. It was burning, all-consuming, inescapable. </p><p>“You’re right,” he said, his voice hushed, “I don’t want to talk anymore.” </p><p>He took advantage of her unsuspecting lips, their rosebud shape parted as if to ask him what he meant, when he pulled her closer into his kiss. It was a hungry, impetuous thing; not his finest work, but this time was different. There was no mark to seduce or knife to slip between ribs, only his own desperation to grip as much of her into his hands as he could, holding just a little too tightly. Teeth clashed in his haste, but neither of them were disparaged, and as he grew impatient with his own messy tact, he dragged his lips to her jaw. He bit down there only to suck at the red-ringed swath of skin to leave a darker mark, and continued to do so until she whined. </p><p>“Zevran,” she sighed, his name sounding reverent on her lips. </p><p>His thumb pressed against her throat, feeling how her pulse raced at even the slightest touch. “Yes, <em>c</em><em>arissima</em>?” He tried to collect himself together. Hiding the shake in his hands was an art he had mastered at a young age and he gathered what composure he could. With a gentleness that so sharply juxtaposed his sudden kiss, he eased her into his lap, as his thumb traced a circle around the red mark left just below her jawline. “Sorry,” he whispered, his forehead pressed to hers.</p><p>In the dim, golden light, Zevran watched how her lashes fanned down as her gaze fell into their laps. “Whatever for?” He could hear the smile in her voice before he saw it. The cold was slowly seeping from her dripping form, the icy lake water still clinging to her skin as they caught their breath, chests falling and rising together. </p><p>She kissed him that time, pressing her damp shirt to his, rising onto her knees to meet his lips. He could feel the water soak through to his own garment, but couldn’t find it in himself to care, melting into her touch as she rested her hands on the sides of his face. There was a softness to everything about her - From her lips, to her nose that bumped into his as they shifted, her thighs that settled astride his, her chest that pressed up against him. He was more than compliant to slow his pace to match her gentle kisses, leaving the mark on her neck to favour tracing patterns across her skin, allowing his fingers to mindlessly trace spirals on her back, her thigh, anywhere he could reach without breaking their kiss.</p><p>When she dropped her hands away from his face to begin unlacing the ties of her shirt, Zevran reclined lazily on his elbows with a smirk that was nothing less than brazen. That was, of course, until the incredibly promising show of removing her shirt was halted. Poppy tugged on her shirt once, twice, her arms seemingly lost as the material pulled over her head. “It’s- Ow.<em> Ow. </em>Stuck. On my hair.” </p><p>“... Stuck?” </p><p>“I have never felt less seductive in my entire life.” </p><p>A laugh startled out of him as he brought himself up onto his hands. “I don’t know. I think I can work with this…” He began as he caught her waist and ducked his head to her stomach and lavished it in small kisses and the occasional nip. She squealed in response, trying to twist away from his mouth and the devious things he was doing to her defenceless skin.</p><p>“Don’t laugh at me!” Poppy insisted, still attempting to pull the caught tie from her golden mop of hair before dissolving into laughter herself. With a huff, she fell onto her back and Zevran followed, positioning himself above her using a forearm to keep himself from tumbling on top of her. </p><p>“Alright, alright. My apologies,” he began as his hands set to work at untangling her from the shirt. “You are rather adorable, though.” </p><p>“Oh, adorable was <em> so </em> not what I was going for.” </p><p>With a final tug, the shirt was thrown over her head and across the ground - Forgotten and wholly unimportant in that moment. Stray curls fell into her face, freed from their bun and oh so tantalizingly close, his fingers itched to tuck them behind her ear. “I find myself rather enthralled, you devious seductress.”</p><p>Poppy tilted her head to the side, seeming as though she were considering her new title for a moment. “Mmm,” she tapped her finger to her lower lip twice, “I’ll take that.” </p><p>He left a kiss upon the tip of her nose with a far too affectionate smile on his lips. “All better?” His tone dipped as he watched the flush spread across her cheeks and bloom across her chest, painting her in a rose-like glow. It wasn’t the first time he had seen her bare, though no less exquisite than those few others times, and he was not so vain as to think her chest was tight with arousal when she had just shortly bathed in the lake; but he could fix that. </p><p>In one smooth motion, he laid a kiss against the middle of her sternum before turning his attentions towards her breast; his motions delicate, scarcely there as he dipped his tongue against the soft space below. Teeth barely touching the skin scraped their way back up to her peak as she shuddered underneath him. Delicacy soon slipped from his demeanour as he heard her sigh- a trembling, breathy thing that shot right to his core. </p><p>“Wait,” she said suddenly, stilling his mouth’s attentions, “I…” Poppy sat up, forcing him to do the same, “I want to try something.” </p><p>Who was he to deny her anything? </p><p>Her hand reached forward and through the small space between them. It curled delicately, as though fraught with indecision. Then, in a moment of bravery, she wrapped her hand around the back of his neck and eased herself back into his lap, positioning her legs around his waist. A moment of stillness passed, leaving him to admire the feel of her thighs, before she pressed fully against him. Her clever little mouth clasped around his earlobe and he <em>gasped </em>as she dragged her petal soft lips along the length of his ear. With an almost embarrassing eagerness, he followed her lips with a turn of his head, silently encouraging her ministrations. She rose onto her knees to give herself better purchase as she dragged her lips to the point of his ear. Her teeth closed tentatively around the tip and he actually moaned in appreciation, his nerves fizzing at the contact. It seemed to spur her on further as she turned his head herself, holding his chin and lavishing his other ear with the same attentions. With her mouth doing such torturous things against his overly sensitive ears, the way she would shift occasionally, her chest bounding in the most tempting of ways at the slightest of movements, pressing herself up against him again… He simply couldn’t help the way his hips bucked, half hard as he pressed tight against the fabric of his trousers. Soon she was kissing him once again, rocking back and forth in his lap with the encouragement of his hands at her waist, his skin alight at the contact. </p><p>It was with an endearing clumsiness that she began to loosen the ties of his shirt, fingers slipping occasionally as her breath hitched in what he could only assume was anticipation. Her hands found the hem of his shirt once the ties had fallen apart, and his hands reluctantly left her hips momentarily as he pulled it over his head, leaving himself just as exposed as she was. The golden orbs, which had previously been idly floating around the lakeside, now fluttered closer, seeming as though they were unconsciously beckoned by Poppy’s own intent interest with his chest.</p><p>“I forgot…” She whispered, her voice hardly audible over the sound of water hitting rock, “I forgot that you had them everywhere.” </p><p>A smile tugged at his lips. “Please, feel free to ogle at your leisure.”</p><p>With the additional lighting the orbs provided, he could see every detail of her: every freckle, every curve, every pink flush. He watched as she traced around his tattoos, beginning at his bicep, swirling all the way around to his abdomen, lower and lower until his breath caught in his throat. Her innocent index finger skittered along his skin, fingernail occasionally scraping hot against him. All her shy touches and flickering, blushing looks were maddening, and he could feel himself throb as her hand came to rest just above his waistband. </p><p>“Wait- Hold on,” Zevran said, stilling her exploration of his tattoos. He reached forward with both hands, pinching the leather tie holding her hair up in an impressively chaotic bun and pulling it free, not caring where the tie landed - Only interested in watching how her curls fell down. They flowed towards her shoulders, finer than any waterfall in Thedas, and he was torn between fisting them in his grip as he kissed her or threading them through his fingers to see if they were really as soft as they looked. She looked down, bashful at his intense study, and he swore to any and all of the Gods that were listening, when she looked up; head bowed just so, hair a golden, curled frame around her face; pink, rosebud lips just the slightest bit parted; with eyes so brown and so warm, glittering in the shining light of her magic - He had never seen anything so beautiful in his entire life. </p><p>Only then did he realise his hands were shaking. In an attempt to hide his sudden nerves, (<em> Nerves? He was no virginal teenager, blushing and fumbling his way through his first encounter. What had gotten into him?) </em>He captured her lips once again, expertly taking her bottom lip between his teeth. Instinct seemingly took over her movements as her hips began to grind against his own - Their dance tortuous and slow, the drag of her smallclothes against him both alleviating and adding to the steady, burning ache. </p><p>His hands trailed down her form, starting at the nape of her neck, then to her chest where he paused momentarily; cupping her pale, heavy breasts in both hands, stroking his thumbs over their rose-coloured peaks before he tightened his grip, scraping his nails against the soft flesh until the continuous circular motion of her hips stuttered and she arched into his touch, her mouth falling open with a breathy gasp. He continued his journey down down down, his pulse loud in his ears, until he reached her small clothes - Dainty, white things, already slightly damp. If he hooked his fingers under them, he was sure she would be hot to the touch. </p><p>They had never quite gotten this far before. Duty always seemed to call her away, the change of a watch shift, someone in their party needing healing, their own exhaustion. It was that very reason that stilled Zevran, his movements for once filled with trepidation rather than his usual abrasive confidence. This was her first time, was it not? Had they discussed this? Did she <em> want </em> this? Poppy’s hand closed around his where it hesitated above her smallclothes. “Zev- Hey, Zevran.” His eyes snapped up to hers, his brow pinched as though in pain, but she was smiling; light and teasing. “Stop whatever’s going on up there.” She tapped her index finger against his forehead to emphasise her point before leaving a barely-there kiss on his lips. </p><p>It didn’t stop the shake in his hands, but the sudden panic that overcame him subsided. Even as sweet as Poppy was, she was no fool. The past six months had certainly proven that. If she didn’t want to be there with him, they were both comfortable enough with each other to voice any discomfort. <em> “Sì, Amore,” </em> he smiled, small and genuine. With her encouragement, a simple nod and a returned smile, he pulled down her smallclothes as his other hand eased her to the mossy forest ground. </p><p>Zevran sat back on his knees to admire the way her hair fanned out around her, like a halo or something else equally reverent and clichely pious; but most of his thoughts seemed to be sickeningly cliche these days. As promising a prospect as committing every inch of her naked body to memory was, the strain in his smalls was more pressing (in the most literal sense of the word.) The laces slipped through the holes of his breeches as he nudged the material apart, and he eased his own smallclothes down his legs to wrap his hand around his length - Pumping once, twice, hissing at the feel of his calloused hand against him and the sight of his Warden on her back. </p><p>Gently, so very gently, he lay one hand on her knee and eased her legs apart, then slipped his fingers to her thigh to push them up towards her chest. Applying soft pressure as he did so, he massaged the silky skin there to hopefully alleviate any nerves coiled in her stomach. “Still alright?” Despite the redness in her face and the awkward fidgeting of her hands, she nodded. His hand slipped downwards and briefly toyed with the damp curls between her legs before his finger traced her lips, feeling just how wet she was for himself. It was too tempting to stare, watch his deft finger play with her, barely tracing the hood of her clit and feel her arch and writhe, begging <em> ‘please, please, please,’ </em>in his ear. </p><p>In a single, fluid movement, he slid his hand under her and angled her up just so to give himself a better angle. His breath fanned against her sex, its chill making her squirm, before he kissed at her folds - Confident once again. The moan that rang out across the tranquil quiet of the lakeside coiled hot inside of him, the feeling of arousal as comforting and familiar as it was erotic. He teased at her sex, barely there, touching almost everywhere except for the one place she ached for. <em> “Zevran,” </em> she whined, her hands finding purchase in his hair. </p><p>He chuckled, a cocky sound, against her thigh where he rested his chin on her stomach. His Warden looked positively flushed, her hair in disarray, her eyes lidded. “Mmhm?” With no response but a buck of her hips and a tightened grip on his hair, he resumed his well-practised trade, leaving nips and kisses against what little inner thigh he could reach with her positioning, alternating between the two. When his ministrations led him back to the space between her legs, he parted her with his fingers before stroking at her folds, making his way up and up to the apex. </p><p>Every other moment he would glance up at her, watching intently at how her chest rose and fell with each movement, how clouded her eyes were, the delicate arch of her back when he teased at just the right spot. He was not a man without mercy though, nor was he with a great deal of patience; not after a whole <em>six months </em>of chasing after her, but he would still savour this, commit every detail to memory. His fraying patience would have to hold a little longer. No matter how much he ached to have her, he would give her nothing less than she deserved. Two fingers joined his tongue, sliding in slick as he moved to show her clit the same attention. She shot up as they curled inside her heat, her spine curved like a bow, and both hands fisting themselves into his hair. <em> “Zev!” </em> Her cry almost loud enough for camp to hear, he thought with a resounding smugness. “Zev, <em> Maker</em>, I can’t- I-” </p><p>“What is it,<em> dolcezza?” </em>He asked with a tone too casual for a man with his chin slick with his lover’s arousal. She was writhing under his touch, truly a sight to behold, so close but not quite over the edge just yet. Her entire being was trembling, waiting for the slightest touch to set it off. A few proficient strokes more and she was finished, her walls convulsing around him, coming suddenly with a symphony of cries. Her back arched as if pulled taught, her head thrown back in ecstasy, she was every picture of sin he could have ever dreamed of. It didn’t take her long to come down from her first orgasm. The glisten of sweat against her skin in the golden light truly made her look ethereal, like something out of a fairytale. In truth, he would have been happy to watch her chest steadily rise and fall all night, but it seemed she had other plans.</p><p>“Come here,” she gasped, hands already tugging at his shoulders in an attempt to pull him forward. Always at her service, all too happy to comply, he lowered her back to the ground, positioned himself on his knees and leaned himself down to meet her lips. They were clumsy in their affections, teeth clashing, tongue messy, their heads shifting every few moments, but he was so full of devotion that he didn’t know what to do with himself. His forearms rested above her head, one hand fisting loosely into her hair. As he broke the kiss, she attempted to chase him, but didn’t get too far with his hand in her hair. He laughed, a surprisingly earnest sound vibrating from deep in his chest. </p><p>“Easy,” he teased before leaving a kiss on the corner of her mouth and easing himself back to his knees. Attempting to soothe her before she tensed up, he stroked his hands up and down her calf. “Are you alright? Ready?” When she nodded in response, biting her lower lip back, he took himself into his hand and eased himself forward, taking himself in inch by inch. He moaned at the feel of her, slick and enveloping in heat and <em> fuck. Fuck, wait- </em>her face scrunched up in pain, biting down so hard on her lip it would leave a mark - He went perfectly still, waiting for instruction. Only when her expression melted into something more familiar - pleasure, bliss, comfortable - did he dare thrust his hips even the smallest degree. </p><p>The sounds she was making were positively criminal, and somewhere distantly, unimportantly, he was almost sorry they were so far from camp. They all spoke so very much about their relationship, all of them with something clever to say; he had half a mind to give them something to actually gossip about. He set his pace slow at first, but her breathy sighs and hitched breathing soon spurred him on to roll his hips faster. The drag of her breasts against his own chest was as teasing and erotic as his own cock inside her, and he took a ridiculous amount of pleasure in watching them thump against his chest because of the motions of <em>his </em>hips. </p><p>Zevran pressed his sweat-slicked forehead to hers. He could have died happily to the soundtrack their panting, his hips rolling like a never-ending tide when he was struck with an idea. After a last grind of his hips, savouring the sound of her needy gasps, he slowed to a steadier pace. Before she could voice her disapproval, he caught her chin between thumb and forefinger to tilt her head back just the slightest degree for him to capture her lips once again. He could have happily remained with their languid pace, feeling nothing but the impossibly soft skin of her thighs and chest with the steady, coiling heat in his stomach; but he had other plans. </p><p>With practised ease and precision, he rolled them over in one easy movement. There she sat on his hips, her thighs astride of him, looking as though she had suddenly fallen into the wrong place, unsure what to do next. In an attempt at comfort, he ran his hands from her waist to her thighs, stroking up and down. </p><p>“I thought it might be better this way, hm?” He said in way of explanation, his voice hushed as his gaze softened at her lost expression, “then you can decide just how things are done, seeing as this is your first time, etcetera etcetera.” Gentle hands, gentler than he could recall ever being, rubbed circles into her hips in an attempt to alleviate her sudden tenseness. </p><p>Her hands gingerly came down to rest on his chest, curling there in the fleeting tufts of hair trailing up his abdomen. “Okay…” She shifted, wriggling her hips as if she were getting comfortable and the friction of her innocent little squirm very nearly undid him, his hands gripping at her hips to still her. </p><p>“Ah, here,” he choked, already feeling the knot in his stomach grow tighter and tighter, “try this instead.” Only applying the slightest pressure to her hips, he lifted her before bringing her back down, cursing under his breath in his mother tongue when he felt her tighten around him. It seemed, bright girl that she was, she caught on quickly. Using her hands on his chest for leverage, she pushed off of him only to sink down again, before rising once more. It was maddening. It was bliss. Somewhere distantly he heard himself sigh her name, his tone dripping with need, mixing with her constant little cries, growing louder and louder with each rise and fall. </p><p>It wasn’t long until she began to shake, her muscles tensing and trembling. He reached towards her, slipping his thumb between her legs to circle around the bundle of nerves at her center. Crashing like a tide she came, her cry barely muffled as she brought a hand to catch the lewd sound she was making in her palm as though suddenly bashful about their volume. </p><p>The sight of her atop of him, in all her golden, flushed divinity, was enough to push him over the edge, never mind the sight of her coming undone, clenching and shaking and hot enough to burn. He would follow suit soon if the tell-tale tightness in the pit of his stomach was any indication, and instinct simply took over as he turned them once again. If the pace he set before was gentle and leisurely, now it was desperate; his hands fisting into the pliable forest floor as he snapped his hips into her again and again. </p><p>Habit more than anything else forced him from the warmth of her, pulling himself from her embrace long enough to position himself above her. One, two pumps of his hand and the knot in his stomach finally pulled too tight, pulsing through him like a sudden strike of lightning, nerves singing in its wake. He came in spurts, leaving her stomach coated in his release. In an ideal world, he would have made some suave comment, something to make her swoon, but in reality, all he could manage was a feather-light kiss on her lips before falling next to her. He gathered her into his arms, pressing her into his side so he could bury his face in her hair, the dull ache in his bones welcomed wholeheartedly. </p><p>“Well, now we’re both a mess,” Poppy mumbled into his side, her hand swiping at the stickiness covering her stomach, “but that was... “ Her whistle rang out across the lakeside, startling laughter from him as he pulled her closer, wrapping his arms around her middle. </p><p>“I’m glad to be of service, my dear.” </p><p>They did nothing but watch her magic light hover around them for a moment, studying how the orbs lazily bobbed, rotating around each other as though on an axis that they were the center of. The cool evening breeze washed over them, a welcomed chill against their flushed skin. Amidst the gentle lapping of lake water, the crickets chirping their songs and the distant chatter of birds, he almost missed how she whispered: “I love you.” </p><p>Whenever he imagined such a confession, he pictured his body tensing up, a feeling of dread washing over him, a desperate, clawing need to run far, far away. He hasn’t considered that he might settle further into her embrace, content in the warmth and the softness of her. When he kissed her that time, sliding his palm under her jaw to tip her head back to meet his, there was nothing hurried about it. There was no war to be won at that moment, no allies to collect, no evil to be defeated. There was only the feel of her heartbeat pressing against his side, thumping away as a steady, constant reminder that <em>she was okay, he was okay, they could survive this.  </em></p><p>And for that night, it was enough.</p>
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